


the living years

by orphan_account



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, and brought him to canada, charles saved arthur from the mountain, he goes back to new hanover in 1907, sadie and abigail are literal angels and i would die for them, where rains fall healed him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The eight years he had spent in hiding had felt like an entire lifetime. Arthur felt that, in some ways, it was. A lifetime away from petty crime, away from illness befalling him, striking him like lightning and burning his flesh down to his very heart. Away from the family he gave everything he had to, the family that left him on a mountain to die.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this game is really doing it to me

The eight years he had spent in hiding had felt like an entire lifetime. Arthur felt that, in some ways, it was. A lifetime away from petty crime, away from illness befalling him, striking him like lightning and burning his flesh down to his very heart. Away from the family he gave everything he had to, the family that left him on a mountain to die. But as the sun was glowing onto his skin, burning him, lightning his hair on fire, Arthur was glad that this was a lifetime he could finally lay to rest. He was swinging up and down, leaning forwards and gripping onto the reins, making his knuckles turn white, as he commanded his horse, Talia, to run faster. If there was anything he could do to be back in New Hanover as soon as possible, he would do it, and he would go to any length for it.

Canada had been beautiful, Arthur had to admit. At least the parts he had gotten to see. For the eight entire years up there, he had never travelled far, always near the border to the States. His homesickness keeping him tightly enclosed and dangerously close to falling off the cliff of safety, and back home. Rains Fall had taken care of him during his stay at their reservation. He had given him medication and herbs and things that Arthur could not even categorize and, in some way that he could never comprehend, Arthur got better. Besides a few straying coughs still running through his lungs, burning like whiskey down his throat, he was alright. 

And although Arthur had wished for himself to die on that mountain, to die peacefully and at ease, to leave a world he could see becoming a better place behind, he was now glad that he didn‘t. Glad for the second chance he was given, even if he might not deserve it. He was thankful that Charles had found him, and that he had brought him away from everything that would tear at his heart. Everything and everyone.

If there was one thing that Arthur was glad to have still gotten to see and to experience, it was the dawn of a new century. As he sat on a wooden box, a flask of old guarma rum tucked tightly between his hands, he looked up at the stars. And as he shivered in the cold winter breeze, he met Charles eyes, and they nodded at each other, a silent wish to a happy new year. And a silent prayer for this century to be a kinder one.

On one colder night in the autumn of 1901, Arthur remembered it clear as day, Charles told him that he had placed a grave on top of an overshadowing mountain with Arthurs name engraved in it, and with a phrase of careful wording carved into the wooden circle surrounding his name. Arthur had teared up then, the pull in his chest telling him that this was what he would have wanted, what he would have deserved.

Talia was panting heavily as Arthur made her sprint, so much that it pierced through the fog over his mind, clearing him of his rapid thinking and reminiscing. He slowed her down, afraid of getting bucked off of her and having to run after her to catch her again. He leaned down to stroke her neck, and when he looked back up again, his gut twisted itself up in a knot, making him feel dizzy. But there was something else overpowering each and every other of his emotions; relief. He was back in Valentine. He was finally back.

He patted Talias neck again, whispering words of encouragement as he guided her to a more rapid trot again. Talia complied, as if drawn to the place, even though she had never been there before. She had never seen the sun rising over the buildings roofs, reflecting off of the glistening wood after a night of rainfall, she had never seen the deserted faces walking purposefully along the streets, or the newspaper vendor shouting out for people to purchase one of the issues, or the clanking of hammers against hooves from over at the stable, or the smell of gun oil streaming out of the gunsmiths shop, of the loud yells of a commotion as two big and bulky men started a fight outside of the saloon, both drunken out of their minds. Arthur had missed those things. Still, he wished that his absence had done it some good, and feared for what his presence would do to it again.

When he rode into the town and onto the main street, he was greeted by a few friendly fellers on their way. He said his greetings back and tethered Talias reins onto the hitching post outside of the hotel. 

He rushed up the small flight of stairs and slowly opened the door of the establishment. „Hello, sir,“ he heard the receptionist say. „Howdy,“ he simply replied, pulling the front of his hat down with two of his fingers, before the man behind the counter continued „What can I do for you, mister?“

„I‘d like to rent a room please,“ Arthur stated, his voice in no means conveying the lingering nervousness that he was feeling. The small voice at the back of his head telling him that people are going to recognize him and that he will be dead before he could find who he was looking for. The receptionist charged him one dollar in exchange for a key and a room number.

Arthur decided that he would go to the saloon before he went to sleep. Inside of the saloon, it was loud, heavily so. Arthur squeezed through bodies pressed against each other, earning himself glares as he made his way towards the bar. He leaned through two men seated at the high table and pressed his forearm on top of it, leaning his weight onto it. Nobody seemed to mind, as nobody has tried to stab him yet. „A whiskey please,“ he ordered and was served mere seconds later. 

He downed the glass as soon as he got a good grip on it, hissing as the liquid burned its way down his throat. „Can I ask you something?“ He asked the bartender. The man twisted the ends of his mustache between two of his fingers as he replied with a nod. He placed his hands on top of the counter, mere inches away from Arthurs own arm, and leaned forward. „What you need?“ He continued as Arthur didn‘t reply, his voice husky. 

„You hear of a man named Dutch van der Linde?“ The man chuckled and pulled his hands back, serving a woman nearby before he came back to Arthur. „Haven‘t heard that name in ages!“

„What happened to him?“ Arthur insisted, resulting in the dying of the bartenders amusement. „Heard that his gang split up. Apparently he lost his son after he turned mad, some feller named Arthur Morgan, I think. And then he just left. Vanished. Ain‘t heard of him for about seven years now, didn‘t know people actually still remember him.“ Arthur nodded along to the mans words, trying to reach for an answer in his running thoughts. „You hear of anybody else of the gang?“

„Nah, I didn‘t. But maybe..“ The bartender then lefr his place behind the bar and wandered off. Arthur didn‘t bother looking after him and just sat down onto the stool next to him, as the patron that had been sitting on it before left. Reappearing, the bartender had an older man strolling idly after him, looking as disinterested as ever. „Maybe this man can help you out,“ he stated, starting to prepare drinks for the complaining customers again, leaving Arthur and the bored man alone.

„So what is it you looking for?“ he tilted his head, motioning for Arthur to go on with his questions. „Information about the van der Linde gang.“ he replied curtly, stroking his hand through the stubble on his face, the motion resulting in a raspy sound that made Arthur twitch.

The mans previously disinterested face lit up at the mention of the name, and he shooed the man sitting next to Arthur away so he could sit down. He turned his whole attention to Arthur as he began prattling on about stories he had heard of the gang. „I heard Micah Bell started his own gang, some people say Dutch joined him but nobody knows for sure. All I know for sure is that Arthur Morgan is dead, and that John Marston disappeared just like Van der Linde himself. That of help for you?“

Arthur nodded, staring into the empty glass in front of him. „Yeah. Thank you.“ He patted the mans shoulder as he got up and left the saloon, feeling nauseated and as if his stomach was eating at the rest of his insides. Finding John Marston would be a hell of a lot harder than he had thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur visits some places he had never dreamed of seeing once more and talks about people he never hoped of meeting again.

After thanking the receptionist behind the counter of the hotel, Arthur wandered outside and unhitched Talias reins from the post they were on and mounted her back. Before he rode off, he lingered on for a few minutes, Talia bouncing her legs restlessly underneath him. He remembered everything they had done here, all of the destruction they had caused and all of the people that had died because of them. And how nobody even recognized him. He listened to the mud squelch as people walked through it, making Arthur realize that it had rained during the night. Just then, he seemed to register the freshness of the petrichor as it washed over him, calming his aching nerves. And then he saw the sun rising above the rooftops, reflecting on the little water droplets still left on the wooden panels. Just like he remembered. 

Ripping his attention away from his memories and back onto reality, he clicked his tongue, making Talia start off in a quick trot. He nodded his head towards a few of the people walking past him in greeting, and apologized to the ones he startled by galloping too closely by. The voices of the city started mingling together until they were only a distant roar, and until they were barely audible. 

Arthur rode for a very short time, before he took a small path off of the road, and into the dense woods surrounding it. He meandered through the tall trees until he arrived at his destination.

Horseshoe Overlook was as stunning as he remembered it. The clearing was illuminated by the afternoon sun filtering through the trees, and the wet grass glistened. Arthur hopped off of Talia in a new burst of vigor and stroked her neck as he walked past her, letting her wander about by herself. Arthur looked around, looked at every crease and angle of the site he had once called home. Even if it was only for a very short time. 

And as he walked towards the cliff facing the river down below, he remembered. Remembered the way Dutch would play this god awful music on his gramophone, remembered how Susan Grimshaw would march towards him, her feet striking the ground heavily and her gaze determined, ready to yell at Arthur for being dirty. He remembered the time he took Jack fishing and he remembered him sitting at one of their tables talking to Lenny and Hosea. Not one second went by where he didn‘t miss those fools. And not one second went by where he didn‘t want to see the life leave Micahs eyes for betraying them.

Arthur realized that he had spent a lot of the recently elapsed time remembering instead of living. 

He felt his chest tighten, air leaving his lungs in a rapid rush, knocking him off of his thought process and back into reality. The reality where most of his family has either died or disappeared. His eyes stung and his cheek prickled, and he wiped away the tears as soon as they formed, and turned his back on the site. 

Wind had started blowing his way, making goosebumps appear on his exposed arms. He swiftly pulled his rolled back sleeves down and continued his way towards the outskirts of the clearing.

Whistling for Talia to come closer, he quickly strapped his foot into the stirrup, heaving his body onto the tall horse, huffing as he settled down into the saddle. He commanded Talia to gallop back out of the woods again as the sun already began setting again, leaving the world in a somber dust. Rummaging through his satchel, he took out a pear, bending forward to let Talia eat it out of his hand without decreasing their pace. 

Letting go of the reins with one hand again, he took out a piece of cooked meat he had aquired on his way to Valentine and quickly ate it. His stomach settled then, the endless rumbling and pulling finally ceasing, leaving Arthur feeling peaceful for the first time in nearly a month.

They arrived in Rhodes in the middle of the night and Arthur decided he should get some rest before he went amongst people. So he set up his camp at the outskirts of the now unusually quiet town. 

The next morning, Arthur made quick work in tearing down his camp and in securing his bedroll onto the horses saddle. He then mounted Talia again and rode further into the bustling town, loitering slowly through the many people marching about. The morning light cast everything in a light yellow hue, and made the dust soaring up with every step taken on it visible. Arthur stopped in front of the saloon and braced himself before entering. There weren‘t many people inside around this time, so Arthur made his way quickly towards the bartender. 

„You seen a man named Charles Smith?“ He inquired before the bartender could get a single word out of his opened mouth. The mans bewildered stare lingered on as he answered „No idea who that is, sir. You wanna order something now or leave?“

Arthur groaned almost inaudibly, „Get me some Moonshine,“ he said gruffly before continuing. „A woman called Sadie Adler, then? Or John Marston?“

„You wanna get yourself killed or something? That it?“ The bartender taunted as he set down a glass filled with a golden liquid onto the counter, sliding it towards Arthur. Arthur wrapped his hand around the glass, pulling it closer towards himself but not taking a sip. „What you mean?“ His brows were furrowed as he glared at the other man.

„John Marston is a dangerous man. Used to be in a nefarious gang. Killed many people in his days. But he disappeared. Reckon that Charles guy you was asking about was also involved, not sure about that one though.“ Finally taking a small drink, Arthur replied „Yeah, I know.“

„Just.. You seen a black Indian feller? Has very long hair and all.“ There was a myriad of things that Arthur was bad at, but he was by far the worst in describing people. Escpecially when he knew them as well as he did Charles. 

„Reckon a fellow like that coming in a few weeks ago. Was saying I should wait for a Tacitus Kilgore, I think it was. That you?“ The man asked, to which Arthur nodded his head in answer.

„What he say?“ Arthur prodded, „Said to tell you he was going to Saint Denis.“ The bartender answered, his voice calm and collected as he started cleaning a glass.

Arthur finished his drink and slammed it onto the counter. He paid for the drink quietly, said a whispered thanks and left the saloon in a rush.

Outside, he mounted Talia and made her break out into a sprint as soon as she had processed what was happening. Saint Denis would be a relatively long way, but Arthur knew it would be worth it in the end. He did.

His fingertips tingled and his chest hammered only thinking about finally finding Charles again. Charles was the only piece of family he had left and he hadn‘t seen the man in months, and, Arthur had to admit, he missed him.

In Saint Denis, he didn‘t know where to start looking for his friend. He wandered the streets idly, listening to the everyday sounds of a working town. People hollering for others to buy their products, ships horning as they started leaving the harbor and scraggly looking men sitting on the floor, asking for a kind soul to give them some money. Arthur stopped at every single one of the poor peoples sides and gave them each a dollar before he continued his aimless search.

Arthur overheard a small commotion as he continued on his way. People were screaming out the contents of their lungs, voices were overlapping each other as everybody was speaking but nobody was listening. Arthur heard the name Lone Wolf fall more than once, and went to investigate. The sounds led him to an alley, where around a dozen of people were loitering about, everybody was shaking with either excitement or anger. A man with a piece of paper and a pen was in the middle of it all, scribbling onto his paper hurriedly as five people were simultaneously talking at him. A few others were protesting, screaming about Lone Wolf and losing money.

„What‘s going on?“ Arthur asked a man that stood off to the side. The man didn‘t look at him, just continued overlooking the people wrangling in front of them as he answered. „The best fighter, Lone Wolf, stopped showing up a few weeks ago. Ain‘t nobody knows where he went. Two fellers just showed up someday and he left with them and didn‘t come again.“

„What they look like?“ Arthur pushed on, „One of them was an old man who always complaining, and the other had some ugly scars across the face.“ Arthurs breathing stopped involuntarily, „What was their names?“

„I don‘t know. Think Lone Wolfs name was Charles. Ain‘t sure though.“ Arthur needed to know more, so he prodded on „Where they go to?“ He asked, his voice curious and low, almost a whisper between them, like a secret. „Reckon they said something of Beechers Hope.“ The man then shrugged his shoulders and took a few steps foward, off towards the man that was frantically taking everybodys bets, leaving Arthur hanging on to every syllable that had just left the mans mouth. 

Seemed as though Charles‘ reputation was slowly dying, along with his name.

After a while of simply standing there, watching the beginnings of a fight thoughtlessly, Arthur finally caught up with himself and turned around to leave for somewhere else; most likely a trashy saloon.

He rode towards the more run down of the two establishments located in Saint Denis and quickly passed through the doorway.

Inside, there were a few patrons mingling about, some already drunken and looking for a brawl. Arthur rushed past them, ignoring the breaths reeking of moonshine and cheap whiskey that invaded his nostrils as people tried speaking to him. He waved off a woman trying to solicit him, and wandered towards the man behind the bar. 

„Can I get a whiskey?“ He spoke somberly. After being served, he said a quick thanks and began sipping on his drink, groaning at the relief of the substance going down his throat. A thought rushed through his mind, and Arthur quickly grasped it and acted on it. 

„You, uh, you know where Beechers Hope is?“ He finished the question by drinking the remaining contents of his glass.

„Sure do, sir. It‘s west of Blackwater. Run down shack surrounded by a broken fence. Ain‘t nothing worth the time.“ The man then quickly turned around and rushed off towards the attached room to break off a fight that had started there, yelling the whole way.

A cold shiver ran down Arthurs back. Blackwater. Arthur would have never hoped going back to this place. Never thought that he would get to wander the cobblestone covered streets again, never thought he would get to see the ferries leaving the harbor again, never even dreamed of any of it. 

He tried to put an end to his invasive thoughts. To the memories plaguing his mind, turning his soul black and his heart to shatters. The memories of Jenny dying, of losing Mac, and Sean. The memories of an event that started the long journey of Dutchs sanity spiraling downwards into nothingness. He tried to stop them all as he mounted Talia again and started on the very long road towards Blackwater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yes i just wrote a second chapter just now. im hoping to edit all of the chapters once theyre finished.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets a familiar face in Blackwater.

Blackwater had changed a lot since Arthur had last been there. It was busier nowadays, and bigger. There were new buildings that Arthur had never laid his eyes on, and the stable had expanded, now with more stalls and available spaces. 

He had only decided to visit Blackwater because he wanted to ask for directions to Beechers Hope from somebody there. A small voice at the back of his head told him that that was not the only reason for it; he had longed to see the place again, had missed it ever since the gang had to leave. Still, a feeling of dread lingered on inside of Arthur, wrapping around his bones, encasing his ripcage, pressing onto his lungs and heart. 

But nobody has recognized him yet. 

Talia was walking slowly and steadily through the streets, her hooves clanking against the pavement and Arthur let himself go, and swung along with the movement. Arthur wasn‘t giving her any directions, wasn‘t pulling on the reins, he was just loosely holding onto them for leverage, so Talia just roamed about whilst Arthur took everything in. Everything that he once knew by heart but now seemed so strange to him.

And then, Arthur heard a familiar voice calling out for him. „Arthur?“ the voice was very low and soft, yet it felt piercing in Arthurs ears; it rang through his very core as he finally gripped onto the leather reins properly and made Talia turn around to face the origin of the voice. Relief spread out through him like a wildfire as he spotted her. 

Sadie Adler was standing across the street, staring at him as though he was a ghost. In some ways, he truly was, he supposed; more of a ghost than a person.

She had been leading her tall horse towards the sheriffs office determinedly when she discovered the familiar face standing across the street. On the back of her mare, behind the saddle, was a tied up man, groaning and yelling profanities as he struggled against the tight grip of the rope encasing him.

Arthur calmly dismounted his horse despite his insides churning and burning and twisting, and then his legs wouldn‘t carry him further. He felt wobbly, his mind racing as he tried to think of something to say. Anything to soothe the painful look in Sadies eyes. In the end, he came up with nothing. Nothing at all to calm the raging storm inside of him, to calm the racing thoughts of blame and grief. Blame, because Sadie had mourned him even though he was still alive. Grief, because of all the years he had wasted not being with the people whom he loved and who loved him in return. 

But still, at the very core of himself, he knew that he wouldn‘t have made it any different if he could have.

„Arthur, this really you?“ Sadie finally spoke in disbelief, a few lonely tears starting to form in her sorrowful eyes.

„Yeah, Sadie, it‘s me,“ he answered, lifting his arms only to drop them again, his feet still rooted to the very spot he was standing on. And so were Sadies. But Sadie has always had a stronger will than him, and she broke free before he could even attempt to and marched towards him, leaving her mount at the side of the road along with the struggling man tied onto her back. 

When she arrived at his side, she hugged him tightly. It was only a very brief hug before she pulled back again, sniffling as she wiped her eyes. She pulled the front of her hat a tiny bit downwards, attempting to cover her wet eyes. „How did you—" 

„Ah, it‘s a long story. Charles saved me, brought me to Canada and Rains Fall somehow made the TB disappear,“ he gave his friend a tight lipped smile in hopes of relieving Sadie of her worry, even if it was only for a very small bit. 

She focused on the ground, kicking against the cobblestone as she groaned, „That damn Charles. Couldn‘t even tell me.“

Arthur chuckled weakly, „Yeah, said it was better if nobody knew.“ 

„Well, I‘m going to have a nice word with him when we‘re home,“ Sadie finalized, turning around and walking back towards her horse, Arthur following closely behind, whistling for Talia to follow him. 

„Home?“ Arthur questioned as he walked by Sadies right side. She came to a halt next to her mare and began lifting the bearded man off of her back, to which Arthur quickly jumped to help. „Beechers Hope. Uncle, Charles and John built it. Well, it was mostly Charles and John, Uncle was just lazing about the whole time.“

Arthur gave a chuckle at that before something struck to his mind, and his mouth acted before his brain did, and he asked „What‘s with Abigail and the boy?“

„Abigail did the smart thing for once and left John before he built the house,“ The blonde started while lifting up the bounties arms, prompting Arthur to grip the tied up mans tossing legs, dodging the feet trying to kick at his face. 

Arthurs heart flickered, like a fire that‘s just starting up again, coming back with vigor and something powerfully fierce as it was revived. 

„She came back after John and Charles built the house, though.“ Sadie finished as she opened the door to the Sheriffs office with one hand, pulling the bounty through and directly into one of the open cells, dropping him roughly onto the bed, making him groan.

And just like that, the fire in Arthurs heart burned out, replaced by thunderous roaring and lightning. A fight raging.

The bounty yelled at Sadie, calling her various words, some of which Arthur did not even know existed. „For that, I ain‘t gonna cut you free.“ She hissed in a low and threatening voice.

The sheriff then handed Sadie her sixty dollars for the bounty and she thanked him quickly before leading Arthur back out and onto the busy street.

Arthurs eyes couldn‘t focus on one thing alone, as there was so much going on on those streets. Peoples voices were roaring, complaining as somebody rode past them way too fast and almost into them. Papers were flying in the light breeze, grazing the ground every once in a while before being lifted up again and continuing their path into nowhere. 

His attention finally settled onto Sadie, the sound of her mounting her horse pulling his wavering eyes to a rest. He followed her motion suit and climbed onto Talias saddle, and Sadie began leading their way towards Beechers Hope. 

The ride was mostly silent, apart from Sadie sometimes questioning him on all of the last eight years, or her releasing sounds of disbelief, along with relief. 

They arrived on the big farm a few minutes after they left Blackwater. And, as Arthur noticed, Beechers Hope was far better than a run down shack, unlike the way the bartender in Saint Denis suggested it was. When they entered tha fenced property, Arthur soon spotted Uncle. The old man was dozing off underneath the shade of a big tree, resting his back against the broad trunk a bit off of the road leading towards the house. 

Arthur dismounted his horse and wandered over towards the sleeping form and kicked him in the legs. Hard enough to jolt the man awake, but not enough to cause him any harm. Uncle spluttered and gasped as he took in his surroundings before his eyes settled onto the pair of unfamiliar boots right next to him.

His eyes wandered along the figure until they settled onto Arthurs face, and he said, in a slurred voice „Am I still dreaming?“

„You‘re not, old man,“ Arthur simply said, a smile breaking out onto his face. Uncle stood up hastily, almost falling back down in the process and he grasped onto Arthur tightly as he hugged him.

„Oh, my boy! How did you—? How are you?“ Uncles excited voice rang through all of Beechers Hope, and Arthur could hear Sadies weak chuckle from her position on her mare, still standing in the middle of the road. „I‘m fine, Uncle. I will explain later, now come on, let me greet the others.“ 

Uncle complied and followed Arthurs retreating form, his mouth still agape in a shocked silence. 

They grouped back up with Sadie on the dusty road and then continued their small way towards the wooden house, and towards the people Arthur had been aching to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall like this chapter! i struggled a lot writing it but i think it turned out well in the end.   
> if you have any tips or constructive criticism for me to improve my writing, please leave a comment, id appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets the rest of the family

Moving further towards the wooden house, Arthur grew more and more restless. He looked up from where he was nervously thumbing the reins in his hands as he lead Talia along the path, the dust flying up dully with every step they took. 

Charles noticed them quickly, he had most likely heard them approaching, Arthur assumed. The man looked up and at Arthur, a smile breaking out onto his face as he started walking towards the small group, leaving the axe he had been using to chop firewood previously rammed into the low tree trunk. 

„Arthur, I’ve expected you sooner,“ Charles said, his joy shining through every syllable as he embraced Arthur. 

A clicking could soon be heard echoing through the desert, followed quickly by a door being thrown open, prompting Charles to let go of Arthur and move behind him to greet Sadie. 

Arthurs eyes trailed after Charles‘ retreating form for a few seconds, trying to simmer down his anxiety before he set them onto the three figures standing on the veranda.

John was standing in front of Abigail and Jack; he had already made a few steps forward, out of the threshold seperating him from Arthur. His feet were stuck, rooted in place on the wooden bars, the same way Arthurs had been when he saw Sadie again, not knowing what to do or say. Shock, confusion and hurt were etched onto his face just like his scars still were. God, how Arthur had missed seeing those scars, although he might not have liked thinking about their origin.

„Marston, it‘s me,“ Arthur took the lead, causing John to finally break free of his invisible shackles and back to movement. 

John broke out into a sprint, along the length of the veranda, down the few steps leading onto the dirty road, almost tripping as he stumbled downwards, and towards Arthur. 

And the moment John got closer, when he crashed into Arthur, crushing him, caging him in his embrace, Arthurs heart soared. Like now, after eight years, Arthur was finally home again. Home in a place he had never been to before but at the side of the people he considered family. 

The younger mans weight was entirely on Arthur, his arms slung around Arthurs neck and his feet almost off of the ground, hovering, depending on Arthur to not let him fall. Arthur wrapped his own arms around Johns waist after having calmed his rapid breathing down, pulling him closer, squeezing him as if to make sure he was actually there and not just an illusion. Oh, but what a beautiful illusion that would have been amongst the myriad of gruesome ones he has had in his lifetimes. 

He heard Johns voice whisper, raspy and hoarse and real „you fucking asshole, Arthur,“ very quietly against his neck, his warm breath stroking Arthurs skin. And if he heard John sniffling, he didn‘t mention it, but simply responded by squeezing his waist even tighter towards himself. Johns face was buried in his neck, and Arthur leaned his head onto Johns, relishing in the warmth of him so close to himself.

Something seemed to gather in Johns mind, clicking together quickly as John pulled away. The only contact now were Johns hands on either of Arthurs arms, and the warmth that Arthur had previously felt vanished. Just like the twinge of hope in his heart when he looked back at Abigail and Jack, still standing unmovingly on the veranda, Abigails hand still glued onto the doorknob. 

„You‘re— How?“ John asked, his voice raised as disbelief coated it. „I‘ll explain later,“ Arthur simply said, along with a small smile, and that was all of the closure John got for the time being. 

The man pulled away entirely as he nodded, leaving Arthur completely out for the cold trying to seep its way back into every fiber of him again, consuming him slowly. John still had his dark eyes fixed onto Arthurs face, shock and awe shining brightly on his features.

When the stilling shock had left them all, Arthur heard Jack yell „Uncle Arthur!“ followed by two smaller feet striking wood and then earth as he ran towards Arthur. He heard a dog barking nearby as Jack hugged his waist, and he patted the boy on the head and said „You grew quite a bit since I been gone.“ 

„I sure did, uncle Arthur!“ his excited voice rang through, and he let go of Arthur, leaving to join John to his right, still beaming at Arthur with utter glee and bliss in his eyes.

Whilst Jack and Arthur were hugging, Abigail had quietly shuffled over, her feet dragging along the ground, every step heavier and somehow lighter at the same time than the last.

She slung her arms around Arthurs neck and he wrapped his around her waist. The hug was the gentlest of all of the many embraces he had received that day, delicate as though Abigail would break him; or the other way around. 

„Don‘t you ever do that again,“ she whispered as she pulled back slowly, and he said „Ain‘t planning on it.“

They all went inside the house; the whole way there was silent, everybody still processing Arthus return in their own personal way. 

Sadie; like she had finally found the piece that was missing again, making her life complete again. Because without Arthur, she wouldn‘t even have one to be completed.

Charles; like he had been holding his breath the entire time that he was in New Hanover, knowing that Arthur was out there and unprotected. Like he finally got to exhale again.

Uncle; like his family was finally a tiny bit more like home, like the ruthless man he had seen grow into one of the kindest souls was finally back and not lost anymore.

Abigail; like a piece of her past has finally mended back in with her present, like the man that has protected her son and helped him grow into a decent boy without even being there was making sure to be there for the boy the whole rest of the way.

Jack; like his childhood was saved and returned back to him, like he could finally breathe again now that he had one of his long lost uncles back.

John; like something deep in his heart collected itself back again, like the man he had loved so dearly before he was ripped from him was finally back with him. Like mornings made sense for him again and like whiskey didn‘t seem to tempting anymore.

Back inside, they gathered around the fireplace, the fire in it crackling as smoke rose up the funnel and out into the open and vast world.

„Now, tell us everything, Arthur,“ Abigail spoke softly, the first one to call for action.

„So Charles here dragged me off of that forsaken mountain Dutch and Micah had left me on and brought me to an abandoned house. He then arranged a fake grave for me at a believable place and then we was going to Canada. Everything from there‘s hazy to me.“ Arthur answered. If he was being honest, he couldn‘t remember any of whatever happened, he just recalled what Charles had explained to him a few years back, but he seemed to have forgotten all of the rest. 

Charles continued the story, relaying it slowly for everyone present, including Arthur „Rains Fall and his tribe now live in a reservation up at the border. We stayed with them for a while and Rains Fall cured Arthur with herbs and traditional procedures. After Arthur got better, we went over the border and lived in a small town just nearby. I went back to Saint Denis a year ago to check the situation back here and told Arthur to follow a year after me as long as he did not hear anything from me.“

Arthur nodded along, then he let his eyes stray, focusing on everybodys reactions individually. And if his eyes lingered on Johns face and the white streaks etched into it, he wouldn‘t want to admit it.

„Will you stay, uncle Arthur?“ Jacks voice rang out through the stretching silence. Everybodys gaze turned to him; some hopeful, some expectant, some both. 

„Sure, if you‘ll have me.“ He answered solemnly, because, if he was being honest with himself, what else would he do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa i loved writing this and i hope yall enjoy reading it as much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur have a talk

After spending the remainder of the day holed up in the house, ignoring everything besides, they all left for their respective rooms. Abigail had shown Arthur his before she wished him a goodnight and left to join John in their bedroom. Arthur watched her retreating back, ignoring the churning of his insides and the thunders in his mind when he fully entered his own room. 

It was located on the right side of the back entrance, just good enough for him to sneak in and out unnoticed whenever he pleased; which was something he would make use of often. Alone time was something Arthur cherished more than a day spent talking and listening to people fuss about. The longer he looked around his room, the more he was convinced that it used to belong to somebody else of the small, reunited family, but nobody said anything about it so he let it rest as well.

He unbuckled his belt and took off his bandolier and holsters before he let himself fall and collaps onto the bed, releasing a content huff while doing so, groaning as he turned onto his side.

Sleep took him into its lulling rest soon afterwards and, for the first time in months, he felt safe falling asleep. 

The next morning, he joined the others in breakfast at the small table in the living room. Abigail had prepared them coffee and some bread, and everybody was eating slowly, voicing their appreciation for the food provided.

Afterwards, John pulled Arthur aside, and into Arthurs room. He motioned for Arthur to sit on the bed, and the man complied before John joined him to his right side.

„Abigail and me, we got married.“ Arthur tried the best he could to ignore the stabbing ache in his chest, the small twinge in his heart and the way his breath hitched. Despite it all, shoving the feelings deep down into himself, he was truly happy for them. If anybody deserved to have a decent life, it was them. 

„I‘m— glad to hear that,“ he simply said, avoiding Johns eyes, instead focusing on his hands as he fumbled with his own fingers, his elbows resting on his wide spread knees.

„Yeah. Well, I just wanted to tell you that I gave her your ring. Is that okay?“ John asked, almost nervously. Almost afraid Arthur would threaten him to give him back the ring.

Arthur didn‘t care about the ring. He cared about John. And Abigail and Jack. He cared about them finally getting to have some peace and rest. He cared about the fact that he knew that John was aware of how much Arthur loved him; never stopped loving him. 

And Arthur also knew that John pretended to not know that Arthur still loved him. And Arthur pretended that it didn‘t bother him; that it didn‘t tear at his lungs everytime he saw the ring on Abigails hand. That it didn‘t hurt his every breathing fiber seeing the ring he had wanted to give to John on another persons finger.

But he also knew that it was better this way. Better for every one of them. Better for Abigail, because now she had the husband she deserved and loved. Better for Jack, for now he had a father to look up to and to be there for him when he needed him. Better for John, because he didn‘t have to worry about Arthur anymore. 

And better for the two of them because this way nobody would find out, and they wouldn‘t have to keep living in constant danger of getting lynched for loving someone. 

John left his room soon afterwards, he patted the still sitting man on the shoulder and left without another word, closing the creaking door behind himself just like the door that had closed between him and Arthur. 

Only leaving his room for lunch and dinner again, Arthur made himself a home in the four confined walls. A home nobody would tear down and a home he was safe in, unlike the one in his mind; throwing sharp thoughts at him, piercing his brain and his sanity, making him protective of himself and forcing him to second guess every single decision and every single glance. The home that had once loved him as dearly as he loved it, and the home that now had somebody else to fill its emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry for letting you all wait for so long and that this is such a short chapter but lately i havent really been motivated to write on a longer work. i really want to finish this story but it might just take a while and i wanted to thank yall for sticking up with it!

**Author's Note:**

> aye hello partners, its me back again with a lil fic about gay cowboys that deserved better  
> if yall like please leave kudos and/or comments! and constructive criticism is always heavily appreciated!  
> (my tumblr is @oakenshied)


End file.
